Sadistically
by Collie Parkillo
Summary: Can't and won't are two different things, and that fact sums up the relationship between Roger and Maurice. T for violence and the occasional swear.
1. Shadow-speckled

**Author's Note: I decided to take a shot at dark Rogice. Woohoo. **

**Disclaimer: Lord of the Flies does not belong to me.**

_Shadow-speckled_

The sunlight dripped through breaks in the leaves, speckling Roger with bits of gold light and black shadows. That combined with the black face paint smeared around his mouth and eyes made him seem like a monster conjured up by some terrified child.

Maurice, in sharp contrast, looked like the child in question. While Roger was hunched over in the leaves he stood, shifting from foot to foot impatiently and looking curiously up at a bird in one of the trees.

"Maurice. Focus," his companion grunted. "I only agreed to take you hunting if you'd actually pay attention."

"Sorry, but I don't particularly know what you're doing."

"Tracking." Roger pointed to a pile of something brown. "This is proof that pigs have been here. So this is why we choose this place to hunt."

"Ew." Maurice wrinkled his nose at the pile of pig dung.

"You said you wanted to come with me." Roger started towards a thicket of creepers. Maurice followed, and Roger immediately sent him a glare that said _walk more quietly._

Maurice whispered an okay and tried. Suddenly everything he did was loud, the slight scrape of his bare foot against the forest floor was the reverberation of fifteen thousand drums.

There was a rustling in the bushes ahead of them, and if Roger had been a cat, his ears would've perked up. Instead, a smirk crept across his face, making the black crescent of face paint around his mouth look even more menacing.

Maurice just followed him, trying not to make noise. Roger's dark eyes were almost slits in concentration and he'd bitten down on his tongue. He looked over at his hunting partner, and gestured with one hand at a specific bush.

Sure enough, a small pig was wandering about in the bushes. "This is just practice," hissed Roger. "We'll need a bigger one to bring back." His smirk widened and he and Maurice crept up to the pig. Roger gave a silent countdown, and brought his spear upon the pig.

"Maurice?" Roger almost snarled, confused.

"I...I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't _kill." _Maurice's eyes were downcast, and he seemed to have gotten some of his face paint in his eyes.

Roger prowled over to his companion-he wouldn't call him a _friend_-and practically growled into his ear, "There's a difference between _can't _and _won't._"

"I can't kill, Roger. I just can't."

"Everyone can kill. It's just a question of who _will." _The dark-haired boy grinned sinisterly. "How about we practice?"

Maurice's eyes widened, surely this wasn't going to end well, knowing Roger. "Hurt me, Maurice. You seem to be terrified of me. So hurt me. I won't fight back."

"I'm not an idiot, Roger."

"Of course you're not." Roger raised his arms in a gesture of peace. "Now hurt me. Hurt me _hard. _If you can cause pain, then you can kill."

Maurice's hands shook. Roger was the closest thing he had to a friend, yes, he was a bit of a creep, but he couldn't hurt him. "O-okay." He gently poked one of Roger's shoulders with his spear, as though testing it out.

"C'mon."

Maurice wanted to make Roger happy. The need was almost oozing out of him. Even if it meant pain, he wanted Roger's approval. So he stabbed harder, feeling the soft skin beneath the point. A bit of blood came out, and Roger smiled slightly.  
Maurice put down the spear and scratched at the spot with his fingernails. A trickle of blood began to run down Roger's shoulder, mixing with the face paint.

"That's it," Roger coaxed. His voice was almost soothing.

The sight of blood made Maurice's stomach turn a bit, but he was glad that Roger was happy. He felt a hand on his shoulder, at first from comfort, but then the grip turned angry. "My turn," Roger whispered into his ear, and Maurice felt the urge to scream as he was pressed onto the ground.

He'd just let Roger have his fun and then they'd be back to hunting like normal. Roger pressed and scratched and nipped a bit at Maurice's collarbone. This was a strangely romantic gesture, normally it was just scratching or spearing.

"Roger..."

Roger didn't seem to care, the nipping had become more like painful kissing. He eventually made his way to Maurice's mouth, and all his protests were drowned out by Roger almost biting his mouth.

Roger pulled away, leaving Maurice's lips throbbing. "You like this, don't you? You like it when I cause you pain. And yet you can't kill or cause anybody else pain."

Maurice only nodded. Roger took his victim's chin in his hands, tickling the skin with his fingers. "You like this a lot. So imagine doing this to someone else."

"I'm not like you, Roger."

"Really? Is that so?" He was like a cat playing with a dying bird.

"Yes."

"Oh, you are. You're very much like me." He gave Maurice another violent kiss. "I'm not being affectionate, see. I'm being sadistic. There's not that much of a difference between the two in the end."

"T-there is. Affection is like what mothers do. Sadism is what you do."

Roger smiled and traced one of the cuts he'd made in Maurice's skin with his untrimmed nails. "Oh, no, not at all."

"This is affection." Maurice was able to almost pull himself up from beneath Roger and kiss him. His lips were surprisingly warm, and he made sure that he was gentle and chaste. Everything Roger wasn't.

"I enjoyed that," Roger said honestly.

"Good."

"But not as much as this. And stay down." Roger pushed him back onto the ground, making him lose his breath for a few moments.

"We haven't even caught the pig yet..." Maurice suddenly sounded worried. "And how long've we been gone for?"  
Suddenly Roger looked very worried.

"Maurice...we left at roughly nine, let's say...and it's nearly noon now..." Roger swore under his breath. "Jack is going to be pretty angry."

"We've got to get back. But catch the pig, first."

Roger sighed and got up off of Maurice. "But consider this a lesson in hunting for you. Hopefully you'll be able to kill this time." His tone suggested that if Maurice didn't, there would be consequences, so Maurice picked himself up off the ground and followed him off into the shadows.

**.**

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**Um. I enjoyed writing that. **


	2. Stones

**Author's Note: Since Nightkill is unable to carry out Rogice Saturday this week, I took it upon myself to write some Rogice to fulfill the sacred tradition. This is becoming a multichapter of Rogice oneshots now. Yay.**

**Disclaimer: Lord of the Flies is not mine, I am not William Golding. Or am I. **

_Stones_

Throwing stones was just something that Roger had enjoyed doing all his life.

It'd started out as pebbles and gravel in the driveway, skipping them across the concrete and onto the lawn. Then one day, they'd hit the toddler on the neighboring lawn and his parents had had to have a...talk...with him. They'd said that he was sadistic, and they'd asked him to define that word.

He'd agreed. He was sadistic.

He wanted to continue desperately, so he'd started going over to Maurice's house just to throw rocks in their driveway. They used to sit there together after school, tossing stones. He wasn't sure how the habit had developed, but he liked it.

And now here, he could throw all the rocks he liked, and _more. _He could cut and punch and twist and hurt people any way he wanted, and no one could stop him here.

But what Maurice had told him earlier was sticking in his mind. About affection. And love. What was love, anyways? It wasn't something that he'd ever considered in his whole bitter existence.

Roger picked up a stone and tossed it at a tree. It bounced back onto the ground. Perhaps he was like that rock. He let out a bitter laugh at that metaphor. He wasn't a sentimental person, why was he thinking about something as petty as affection and love?

And even if he did feel such a thing for someone, he didn't think it would be to Maurice. Even though it had been him who instigated the kissing earlier, he hadn't meant it in...that way. Not love, but a sort of proof of possession. He wanted to know that Maurice belonged to him. Was that love?

He didn't think so. Roger got up, looking up at the quickly fading daylight through the trees. He'd gone to hide here after Jack had started a savage dance among the others. He would do anything for Jack, he just needed...a bit of space.

He began to make his way out of the woods and into the scrub bushes at the edge of the beach. Fruit trees grew abundantly there, but it didn't stop everything from looking dead. That's what this island was. Dead.

Ralph, that moron, acted like Roger didn't know what he was doing to other people and the island. Oh, he knew very well, he just didn't care. He would burn down this island until it was truly dead, no longer in this half-alive state of being. He'd put it out of its misery.

Ralph was wrong about everything. What sort of a rubbish chief was he, to not believe in pain? Roger loved pain. Without pain, there could be no love, it was like the polar opposite. And he simply chose to believe more in the opposite of love than love itself.

He looked around the grove, and noticed a dark shape in the bushes. It had feathery, light brown hair. Maurice.  
Roger wasn't the type to greet you first, so he simply sat down next to Maurice, who'd buried his hands, and peered out through the gaps in his fingers to look at Roger.

"What do you want, Roger?" He sounded like he'd been crying, and Roger took that moment to observe the pure, human emotion in his voice.

"Nothing."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure there's something you want."

Roger considered it, almost smiling at the fact that Maurice knew him so well. But Roger didn't smile at things like that. "Not anything I can think of currently."

"Don't lie to me."

Roger smiled and took Maurice's chin in his hands. "Oh, come now." He couldn't help but toy with Maurice's emotions, it'd been something he loved to do since he was very small.

Maurice jerked out of Roger's hands and laid his head on his shoulder, a gesture of affection that came out of seemingly nowhere. "You're horrible.

"I know."

"I expected that you'd be with Jack and the others. What're you doing out here?"

"Needed some space."

"Oh." Maurice scooted closer to Roger, and Roger had the instinct to move away, but didn't. He seemed upset, but Roger couldn't fathom what he was upset about. Unless he still cared about their conversation earlier.

"What's wrong?" He immediately regretted asking the question. He'd only make it worse.

"You."

He figured. "Well, I can't fix that, now, can I?"

"No, you can't."

Roger looked at Maurice's small, tired frame next to him and was suddenly aware of the fact that he was still holding a stone in the palm of his hand.

He threw it at a palm tree, hearing the tap noise it made against the trunk. "Do you remember, before this, when we used to sit on the side of the road and try to hit the littler kids with rocks?" Maurice said, watching the stone clatter to the ground.

"Yes. Did you like that?"

"Yeah. I miss that."

"Why? Here we've got freedom. No adults are around. We can through as many stones as we want and no one's there to stop us."

"Maybe that's not such a good thing. Jack isn't exactly...thoughtful about the stuff he does, y'know?"

Normally Roger would have growled at such a remark, he trusted Jack with his life. "Think of it this way. You don't have any limitations here. You can do whatever you want."

"I guess." Maurice sighed and looked up at the sky, which was a flaming orange sunset. "If things get out of hand..."

"If they do, that's not a _bad _thing." Roger slipped his arm around Maurice's shoulders. It felt odd, to have another human being this close to him. He almost wanted to dig his nails into the skin of Maurice's shoulder and draw blood, just to feel something familiar.

But something stopped him. Some part of him didn't want to spoil this. "I thought about what you said earlier."

"About what?" Maurice looked up at him.

"Affection. Not something I'm capable of, but I thought about it anyways."

"This is pretty close to affection."

Roger smiled wryly, but couldn't think of anything to say. He was a sadistic bastard, and he knew that, but perhaps there was some reserved part of him that had it in him to love another person.

**i am a failure as a human being. **


End file.
